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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387649">can't even be half of the real thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/comorbidity/pseuds/comorbidity'>comorbidity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, M/M, we out here snogging in the club</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:27:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/comorbidity/pseuds/comorbidity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Few moments allow them to be with one another without scrutiny. Whether or not it's enough doesn't matter when there's no other choice.</p><p>But that's okay. Because it's Will, it's all okay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Andrew/Will Lenney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>can't even be half of the real thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The club is always too loud, too dark, too crowded. But none of that ever matters, because in the middle of the pounding bass and strobing lights there's a lifeline in the form of Will, tall and confident and able to navigate the throng with ease. They could go shot for shot and Will would still handle it better, leaving George to fumble all social graces as the liquor hits him like a train. Alone, he'd be a wreck, completely at sea on the busy dancefloor. But Will is the beacon keeping him on course. All George has to do is follow where Will goes.</p><p>And when Will goes to a semi-secluded corner of the club with a meaningful nod of invitation, George trails along without question. When Will backs George against the wall in a messy, demanding kiss, George responds by letting his jaw fall slack to allow Will's tongue into his mouth. When Will mutters something almost angry in its desperation, most of the words lost to the booming trance beat pouring out of a speaker overhead, George replies by taking Will's head in both hands and yanking it back against his own.</p><p>Will usually tastes like a horrible combination of beer and whiskey sours (one before the other, the recipe for a rough time - and yet he rides it out beautifully, as he always does) and it's somehow both revolting and delicious. It's the panacea after too many shots and cocktails, the remedy for the anxiety that hits George if he realises he's gone a bit too far with the drinking. He rarely gets to the point of being ill, but usually he winds up wanting to be outside. Or in bed. Anywhere but the club.</p><p>But the club is where he can have Will, where Will can trap him in a heated kiss and rock his hips forward in a way that makes George even more delirious than the booze does. If George was anywhere else, he couldn't have Will's tongue down his throat and Will's hands on his body and Will's long, lean frame pinning him to the wall. The club is where they can both pretend for a moment that what they're doing is normal and not at all at risk of others' judgement.</p><p>The others are never present for these outings. Both George and Will are confident of that, and the certainty has nothing to do with the alcohol. They go to this particular club deliberately, since it's just far enough away from anyone whose attention would be unwelcome. Here they can act at their own discretion, bolstered by liquid courage and the guise of anonymity. They always opt for the club rather than somewhere that's actually private; there's something reassuring about disappearing in plain sight rather than trying to sneak around in the shadows.</p><p>Sometimes George thinks it's a bit torturous to be limited to these little excursions every few months or so, but he understands (albeit somewhat begrudgingly) the need for caution. Waiting is a drag, but it all feels worth it whenever Will is back at his throat again, leaving marks that George will have to explain away with lies about hooking up with random strangers. Alex never really seems to believe him, but Alex also knows better than to look for answers he might not want to hear. </p><p>In particularly needy moments, George wonders if it's worth it to go through all the effort to keep their situation a secret - but of course it's not merely a matter of inviting nosy questions from their friends. Not when Mia is part of the equation. She knows and she doesn't know, Will said once, actually far gone enough that time to be slurring the words. Some explanation about being able to explore this side of his sexuality, but without the specifics. And George doubts that Mia knows it's <em> him </em> of all people that Will is using as a test piece, nor is he sure of how she'd react to the knowledge. For everyone's sake, he thinks it makes more sense to keep everyone else in the dark.</p><p>Much as it frustrates him to only be able to have Will on these rare occasions.</p><p>Whenever George isn't intoxicated by drinks and the club's atmosphere and Will, bitterness wells in his chest, grumbling that it's hardly fair that he's been relegated off to the side of grimy dancefloors. Of course Mia takes priority, and he doesn't resent her for that. He doesn't resent her at all. But he's envious. Envious that Will doesn't have to hide his relationship with her out of shame. Envious that she can have him whenever she wants, while he's stuck floundering out of his comfort zone with only Will to guide him.</p><p>Though Will guides him gladly, usually by controlling an embrace with practiced skill in spite of how drunk they both are - because by now they're well beyond their earliest explorations of each other, tentative and uncoordinated and out of sync. Each shared kiss, bite, grip, and grind is precisely geared to one another, gestures tailored by their familiarity, one party knowing exactly how to rile the other up without words. Will in particular is somehow gifted in his ability to locate the precise spots on George's neck that will have the latter weak in the knees. It's almost uncanny.</p><p>Will's attentiveness is part of why George can't bring himself to feel completely sidelined. Maybe he's being somewhat used - just as much as he's using Will to get his rocks off, anyway - but it isn't as though Will doesn't care. He does. He's said as much before, even if it's been in the later hours of the night, when they're sat together in an Uber on the way home, drained and half asleep. Sometimes Will twines his fingers around George's and leans his head on George's shoulder and ignores the questioning glances of the driver in the rearview mirror. He'll mumble something about being grateful for George, thanking him for being patient, and George will respond with little more than a tiny, private smile, his bitterness allayed for another short while. </p><p>It's impossible for George be mad at Will for long. The bastard's just too adept at making him feel good.</p><p>They don't really talk about it, nor do they have intentions for the future - whether they'll keep on as they are with the intermittent trysts or take it further or leave it all behind. Too many qualifications would make it more complicated than it needs to be. There are times in which George wishes there was a more clear-cut explanation for what they have, but there's no real use in trying to put it to words. All told, he doesn't need to plan farther ahead than their next trip to the club; getting to the next moment where he can finally have Will's mouth on his and their hands all over each other is the only thing that matters.</p><p>George trusts Will enough to follow his lead, through both the club and their convoluted dynamic. And when Will's slumped against him in the backseat of the Uber, nuzzled up and dozing as the city lights whicker by outside, George never feels like he's left wanting. </p><p>Will's his waypoint. That's all George really needs. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>was asked for g/w and i am happy to oblige in spite of a spicy bout of writer's block. not sure why this feels like their dynamic in my mind but. here it is again. i can't help myself. this isn't related to my first series but yknow, same energy,</p><p>title is from jukebox the ghost's 'girl'</p></blockquote></div></div>
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